


Forget the World

by winterwaters



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Another 3+1, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, POV Multiple, basically I just wanted them to hold each other a lot, complete and utter fluff, yup back to that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 00:02:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3748114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwaters/pseuds/winterwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times other people find Clarke or Bellamy asleep in the other’s arms, and one time they are definitely <em>not</em> sleeping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forget the World

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the future when everyone is happy and not so fucked up, you know, the usual. When I'm stressed, I cope by writing fluff. so, enjoy!

I.  
Abby can’t find Clarke. She’s looked _everywhere_ \- and that’s saying something, seeing as Camp Jaha is no longer the hasty makeshift community it once was, but a widespread bustling place that she’s starting to call home. She begins to make a second circle through the camp, sometimes stopping one of the kids to ask, but their answers are only a simple apologetic shrug, or more often, “probably with Bellamy.”

It’s after the fifth such answer that she stops and realizes she hasn’t looked in one particular spot. Carefully, she makes her way past the small set of cabins that are being constructed, to the few tents that still remain. Bellamy insists on remaining in a tent until everyone else has a cabin of their own, being the selfless leader that he is. “Stubborn mule” is what Clarke likes to call it, though Abby has pointed out on more than one occasion that her daughter also refuses to take a cabin.

“ _Someone_ has to keep an eye on him,” is the grumble she gets in response, and she has to hide her smile at Clarke’s familiar stubbornness that seems to rear its head rather pointedly around this boy.

So she slows her footsteps as she approaches Bellamy’s tent, noticing how there is a particular lack of noise in the surrounding area. With nothing to knock on to announce her arrival, she settles for calling his name shortly as she lifts the tent flap back.

“Have you seen-”

She stops at the sight of his face, slightly stricken as he stares back from his seat on the ground. Clarke’s head is in his lap, the fingers of his left hand buried deep in her blonde tresses. She’s stretched out sideways, perpendicular to him, but she’s facing the entrance and so Abby can see the peaceful expression on her daughter’s face as she sleeps, for once content as she breathes in a slow, easy pattern.

Bellamy clears his throat softly. “She had a headache,” he says lowly, his hand finally resuming the soothing pattern along her scalp. “All the the construction wasn’t helping so I told her she could stay here a while.”

Abby nods gratefully. “Thank you. She has a bad habit of looking out for everyone but herself.” _Something you two have in common._

He sends her a wry grin. “Don’t I know it.” 

Clarke shifts in her sleep, and he squeezes her shoulder. Glancing back up, he asks, “Was there something you needed?”

There was, but it can wait. “Nothing urgent,” Abby replies. “I’ll try to redirect traffic a little longer,” she adds, taking another look at her sleeping daughter.

“Thanks. But come find us if there’s any problems.”

The urge to roll her eyes comes as swiftly as usual, mostly at the fact that a boy half her age still gives her orders, but at this point she’s mostly used to it so it’s easier to tamp down. And frankly she can’t quite handle how the same boy is cradling her daughter like she’s something precious, like maybe he can still protect her somehow.

 

II.  
“Have you seen Bellamy?” 

It’s the third time Octavia’s asked the question, only to be met with a shake of the head. Frustrated, she spins in a slow circle, trying to figure out where her brother could have gone. The camp’s bigger now, yeah, but it’s not a freaking city or anything. He _has_ to be here somewhere. 

Part of her wonders if he’s finally fainted from that illness that’s made his skin discomfortingly pale and left him with a weak imitation of his normally strong voice for the past few days. Being the loser that he is, he continues to insist he’s not sick, and everyone who isn’t Clarke just rolls their eyes and lets him do so.

It doesn’t take her long to decide there’s one person who _has_ to know where he is, or they’re all in serious trouble. So she heads to Clarke’s tent, not as reluctant as she might have once been. They’re not still at odds - it’s been a long time since they were, and honestly there’s no time for hurt feelings anyways. The only thing that’s changed since Clarke returned to them is the way they argue. The other girl doesn’t confront her quite so openly anymore, and it had gotten kind of worrying until she figured out why, exactly. 

Bellamy almost always hovers near their conversations now, as if ready to jump in between the two of them every time their voices even dare to rise above normal volume. And it’s his presence that makes Clarke back down, she’s realized. Not because she doesn’t want to press her point, but because she’s trying not to add to the burden already on his shoulders. And _fuck,_ how can Octavia hate her for that? So it’s usually her who tracks down Clarke later, pulls her aside so that they can finish hashing out the issue, and slowly but surely, they’ve gotten pretty good at working together again.

She quickens her pace when she reaches the gathering of tents that’s becoming fewer by the day, making a beeline for Clarke’s. She doesn’t bother disguising her footsteps, letting her boots crunch heavily - Clarke isn’t a fan of surprises.

“Hey Clarke, any chance you-”

She stops mid-sentence as Clarke looks up rather guiltily from her mat, though it’s not without a tiny spark of defiance, either. She’s sitting propped up against one leg of the tiny table Bellamy dragged in here not too long ago, insisting if she was going to draw she may as well have a proper surface for it. Her notebook full of detailed plant sketches is open off to the side, but that’s not what catches Octavia’s attention.

No, it’s the fact that her big brother is essentially wrapped around Clarke’s small frame from the waist down, his head resting on her stomach and his hands linked behind her back. He’s also dead asleep. 

“Is everything okay?” Clarke doesn’t raise her voice above a whisper, though the crease in her forehead gives away her concern.

“I was looking for Bell,” she replies just as quietly. She’s slightly amazed that he hasn’t woken up just at the sound of her entering. Then it hits her. “I’m guessing this means you finally got him to take some medicine?”

Clarke swallows. “In a manner of speaking. I put it in his canteen. I just didn’t expect for him to down the entire thing in one gulp,” she says sheepishly. Octavia bites down on her laugh, because only her idiot brother would foil Clarke’s well-intentioned plans in such a way. 

“It hit kind of fast, especially because he didn’t eat lunch like I told him to,” Clarke continues, slightly exasperated in that fond way she always is with him. “And then I could barely get him in here before, well…” she gestures to her current state, though really she doesn’t seem all that put out by it.

Octavia nods. “Gotcha. Don’t worry about it. He needs the rest.”

“Yeah, he does,” Clarke absently strokes the back of his neck in a motion that seems to come naturally, then seems to catch herself. “Octavia, could you maybe not-”

“My lips are sealed. I’ll make sure everyone stays busy.”

“Thanks.”

 

III.  
There aren’t many days Lincoln gets to traverse the woods alone like he used to, before the ship that dropped out of the sky changed his life. So when the chance to explore does come along on a warm summer day, it doesn’t take Octavia long to note his wistful expression, though he doesn't think he was being _that_ obvious. Soon she’s practically shoving him out of the gate.

“ _Go,_ ” she insists again. “Really, we’ll survive a few hours without one extra person. Hell I think I even saw Bell drag Clarke away earlier. If they’re taking a break, you certainly can.”

He smiles and kisses her in thanks before tucking the horn into his belt and heading out. He hasn’t gone all that far when he hears a low murmur coming from the trail to his left. Recognizing Bellamy’s voice, he heads over intending to offer some help, assuming Clarke was the one who convinced him to come into the forest to gather more plants for the medicines. Ever since she and Nyko started to share their medical knowledge, she’s been all too excited to venture into the woods, and Bellamy’s not usually far behind.

But this time what he finds instead is the pair sitting against a thick tree trunk, Clarke’s head drooping on Bellamy’s shoulder as his voice drifts softly, weaving a tale about a woman named Cleopatra, who, as he soon finds out, was a queen in her own right. He doesn’t realize he’s stopped in plain sight to hear the rest of the story until Bellamy’s voice falters, and then they’re staring at each other for a long moment.

Lincoln sighs and approaches, careful to be quiet so as not to wake Clarke. “I’m sorry,” he says as soon as he’s close. “I did not mean to listen, except… you are an incredible storyteller.”

Bellamy shakes his head. “It’s not really my story,” he explains. “Just one of the things mom used to read to me and Octavia when we were younger.”

“Even so. It held my interest.” He looks at Clarke, who looks so much younger in her sleep, the usual lines absent from her face. “I came to offer help. I heard your voice and thought you two might be searching for more plants.”

“We probably will be, eventually. Clarke won’t let such good weather go to waste,” he grins, then brushes her hair back tenderly. “But I just wanted her to get some rest before we go traipsing everywhere again.”

“That is good of you. She does too much.” _As do you._ He hesitates, then comments, “I do not often see her in such deep sleep.”

Bellamy shrugs, a little sheepish, which is a new look for him. “She said she sleeps better when I’m talking,” he says, and even if his mouth isn’t smiling, his eyes are. “So I just, um, tell her all the old stories that I can remember.”

Lincoln smiles. “Not Cerberus again, I hope?”

Bellamy’s eyebrows lift in surprise, but then he smiles back. “Nah. I think we’ve all had enough of monsters for a while.”

“I agree.”

Clarke murmurs in her sleep then, wordless but satisfied, and curls even further into Bellamy’s side until he has to raise his arm. She settles into the crook of his body with a happy hum, and even Bellamy can’t seem to help his pleased smile at that. Lincoln quickly makes himself scarce, smiling as he hears Bellamy’s voice resume behind him.

 

IV.  
Monty wipes sweat from his forehead for the third time in as many minutes as he jogs through camp. It’s early, so early that the sun is just barely awake, and yet it’s already so humid that he’s begging the heavy clouds above to dump as much rain as possible, and soon.

He wouldn’t normally want to wake up anyone at this hour, except he knows Clarke will already be up. The girl barely sleeps anymore, although through other hushed stories he’s heard lately, Bellamy might be changing that. And he hopes it’s true. After everything she’s done, everything _they’ve_ done, even the smallest measure of comfort is well-deserved. Not to mention Bellamy could use some shut-eye himself.

He’s thrilled to tell her about his latest idea for creating moonshine in bulk - not for celebration, although it _has_ been too long since the last one - but for medical purposes. She’s been complaining for a while now how they always seem to run out too fast, how much she hates using equipment that’s not properly sterilized. When Jasper tried to remind her that they’re lucky to even have sterilized _anything,_ she’d promptly turned her narrowed gaze onto him until he held his hands up in surrender.

So when the idea hit him earlier as he was lying in bed in his new cabin, he just _had_ to slip out of Miller’s tight hold - not a simple feat, he’s proud to say - and run over to share the good news. He likes being able to give Clarke good news nowadays, rather than giving her yet another problem to deal with.

Nearing her tent, he hears her lowered voice and grins, because yup, she’s awake. So for that reason he doesn’t announce himself, doesn’t bother calling her name before he lifts the flap and strides inside. And freezes.

Clarke is draped overtop Bellamy, her bare shoulders all that peek out from the sheets that they’re both currently tangled in. Bellamy’s hand is lost in her hair, and their mouths are locked together so fervently that Monty knows with complete certainty that they've been doing this for a while. 

That ends rapidly as soon as he enters, and they turn to him in shock. Even as he hastily stammers out an apology while tripping over himself to turn around, he can see Bellamy shifting to reverse their positions so that Clarke’s body is covered with his own, and he can’t help but smile to himself at the protective gesture. Frankly he's a little impressed that it took this long for them to be caught.

“I had an idea for making a ton of moonshine but I’ll need Raven’s help and probably a section of the old ship but _wecantalklater,_ ” he gets out, then flees from the tent. 

But not before he hears Clarke’s bright laughter ring out behind him, soon joined by Bellamy's deep chuckle of disbelief, and he thinks that even if these are the last few moments of his life, it’s damn well worth it to hear those sounds from his two leaders once more. He spends the entire jog back waiting for one or both of them to suddenly turn up in front of him, as they're wont to do. Surprisingly though, he makes it back to his own cabin and Miller’s sleepily accusing eyes without hearing any footsteps or running into anyone at all, and they remain unbothered for the remainder of the morning.

When Clarke does emerge from her tent much later than usual with Bellamy in tow, her cheeks are bright pink but her smile is all joy. As Bellamy slings an arm around her shoulders, pecking her lips with a hint of his old rakish grin, Monty decides it’s a sight he can absolutely get used to.

Everyone else seems to agree, if the echoes of _finally_ that greet the pair throughout the day are any indication.

**Author's Note:**

> title from Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol


End file.
